The Little Things - How He Annoys
by Superwhopotterlockbbc
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There are many things that Sherlock knows, every bit of useful knowledge careful stored away in his head, arranged for optimum storage. Sherlock knows how to tend to bees, an array of fight strategy, he knows enough about chemistry to manage what a chemist would need at least five years training to understand, he knows stray bits of cultural blurbs to keep him on top of current events,and he will occasionally store away plant material information, but there is one thing that Sherlock has started gathering information upon information on, filed away both in his head and a small Moleskine he has dubbed the 'John Book'.
Yes, he knows perfectly well that it's not very creative, or clever but when it comes to John, Sherlock can afford such lapses in his otherwise unbreakable snarky forcefield. The 'John Book' started only three weeks after knowing the Doctor, and was not done with the intention of having an entire journal dedicated to the man. It just happened. Whenever John did something particularly fascinating, or frustrating, Sherlock began to write it down, in long., drawn out notes and lists.
The first time had been when John left for work, but not before yelling at Sherlock to get up and buy some 'Bloody beans.' Sherlock had ignored him, but felt a slight bubble of annoyance. John didn't understand. John was always going on about how unthoughtful, uncaring, lazy, frustrating Sherlock was. So, Sherlock wrote down all the things that John did, to made his 'apathetic' flatmates blood boil.
- Constantly states the obvious.
- Never leaves any tea for me.
- Disrupts my study of botulism. (He thinks is dangerous)
- Yells at me when I accidentally lit his jumper on fire.
- Doesn't like me showing off.
- Refuses to stop watching 'Doctor Who'.
As the list got longer, Sherlock began to smirk. John wasn't so perfect either. Sherlock continued the list until he got to the very last one he could think of.
- Worry's over me when I've only gotten scraped by a bullet.
Sherlock began to close the small Moleskine before the last on the list caught his eye. The case had been fairly open and shut, but a bit of chasing was needed, and so Sherlock took on the legwork, as Scotland Yard sat on their arse.
As Sherlock had raced after the murderer, the criminal shot out a round, missing the first few times, before clipping Sherlock on the leg. It hadn't hurt overmuch, and although his trouser leg was slowly soaking with blood, it was nothing but a flesh wound and so not a large concern.
He had eventually tackled the man, wrestling the gun out of his hand, when John caught up. Immediately Sherlock heard a gasp from his colleague and friend and assumed rashly that he had been shot when the man underneath Sherlock had managed to pull the trigger a mere three seconds ago. But, turning in a sort of shocked dread, Sherlock saw no wound on the Doctor, but did see wide eyes, and a pale face. Right when Sherlock deduced that this was caused by his bloodied trouser leg, a few of Lestrade's officers had come round the corner, and started slapping cuffs on the criminal.
After five minutes of Sherlock and John being thanked by the officers, being told they had to go down to the Yard first thing tomorrow, John had dropped down to the ground, and started to roll up his friends trouser leg.
"How long has it been since you were shot?" The Doctor asked, still rolling up the now soaked through fabric.
"John, its fine. It's nothing more than a scrape. Some disinfectant, and I'll be fine. Now get up and lets hail a taxi."
It seemed his words were falling on deaf ears as John carefully inspected the wound. It was slightly inflamed, and had clotted.
"Alright, but as soon as we get home I'm wrapping it and prescribing three days off your feet."
Sherlock sat thinking it over, before crossing off the last listed thing that John did to annoy him. John caring didn't annoy him. It just made him feel something he was unfamiliar with, which in itself was annoying. Instead, in place of the now crossed off sentence he wrote,
- He makes me feel ...
Sherlock decided to leave the sentence unended. The feeling was one of those things he had yet to acquire in his mind palace. He would need to categorize it soon though, if he didn't want to be driven insane.